Following Orders (Completed Repost)
by Emrys1
Summary: COMPLETED version of an old story. Archer, Tucker, and T'Pol are kidnapped and subsequently given questionable orders by their captors. Will they follow them?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is an old story that had no ending until now. An old story. A REALLY old story. I wrote this fic way back when I had the habit of writing a chapter then posting it before writing the next chapter, which I never do now because of the way this story turned out. Well, it didn't turn out; I just never finished it.

The dang thing has always been on my mind, but it wasn't until I re-visited the Star Trek Enterprise television show a month or so ago that I made the decision to finish it.

This has not been an easy task. Firstly, my writing is so much different now than it was when I wrote this fic. Secondly, I made a huge mistake in the first few chapters. I allowed the Enterprise crew to know the name of the Ferengei...which just didn't happen in this series.

So, I've cleaned up the previously written chapters, and I've taken out the name "Ferengei." I've also written an ending. Honestly, I hadn't left myself much to work with way back when, but I did the best I could piecing things together.

I HATE the title, but I'm keeping it for now.

I hope you can forgive the repost. It's been so long since I've updated this story, and the previous chapters are now written quite a bit differently so I thought a repost was in order.

Whoever is still out there reading Enterprise fic, I hope you enjoy!

Title: Following Orders

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters and situations of Star Trek Enterprise. I don't and I am not being compensated in any monetary way by writing this story. I do this to pass the time.

Part I.:

He woke.

Gently and without distress.

He even smiled as he opened his eyes and left the fantastical dream of green gardens filled with drowsy poppies.

And then he sat up and a small invasion of unease entered his body.

"This isn't right," Captain Archer whispered to himself.

The small sense of unease threatened to become an entire assault of anxiety.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked loudly and sharply to no one in particular.

"Captain. Are you well?"

Archer turned in the direction of that flat, unemotional voice and a wave of relief washed over him as he saw T'Pol sitting calmly in a corner. While he assessed his condition, he absently noted they were in a small, doorless room consisting of plain, white walls.

"Fine, T'Pol. I'm just fine." And he was. Maybe slightly disoriented, but he felt rested. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Captain. My body is functioning quite well, " T'Pol calmly replied. "But Commander Tucker has yet to awaken." As she spoke, the Vulcan motioned to the far side of the room behind Archer.

The Captain turned. "Trip?" he asked concernedly.

The young engineer was sprawled on his side, and he showed no sign of awareness. Archer moved to his friend, and gently shook the other man's shoulder.

"Trip! C'mon, you have to wake up now!" Archer spoke loudly, but Tucker showed no indication of wakening. Archer sat down heavily in arms-reach of Trip, and looked towards T'Pol again.

"Do you have any idea what is happening?"

"No Captain. I believe we were all drugged during our foray in the gardens, but by whom or why I do not know."

Archer observed that his Science officer displayed no anxiety or concern, and he was almost envious of her unflappable nature even though it was somewhat abrasive given the circumstances. He silently wished Trip would rouse himself, so he could share some healthy emotions with another human being.

"I imagine we'll find out in good time what's going on," he said offhandedly.

"I share your belief, Captain. It is only logical," T'Pol replied.

Feeling the uncertainty of the situation, Archer had the sudden urge to laugh. Sometimes it seemed as if the source of the Vulcan's dry responses regarding logic was a hidden well full of humor.

He allowed himself to chuckle as he looked around for a weapon of some sort. As expected, his search was fruitless.

"I don't suppose you have a phase pistol or a communicator, do you, T'Pol?"

"No, Captain," T'Pol said evenly.

"Didn't think we'd be so lucky, but it was worth a shot," he said with a shrug. "Do you have any suggestions about what we should do next?"

"I think we should wait, Captain."

And they did.

They waited for someone to come and explain to them what had happened, but no one came.

They waited for some sign that Enterprise knew of their whereabouts, but that didn't come either.

And they waited for Trip to regain consciousness. On this front their energies were rewarded approximately an hour after the captain had awoken by a soft moan from the source of their apprehension.

Captain Archer focused anxious attention on Trip as soon as he heard him begin to struggle to awareness.

"Trip?" he asked.

Tucker's only response was to move onto his back and moan again.

"Commander! C'mon now, it's time to wake up. That's an order!" Archer said loudly as he placed a gentle hand on the struggling man's chest.

"Yessir," Trip mumbled, and he squinted his eyes open. He did not otherwise move, and his eyes flickered open and closed as they tried to adjust to the lighting in the room.

"Cap'n, can you dim those lights? They're awful bright," he complained. The piercing light was penetrating his skull like a knife, and it made his head ache.

Jon looked at the subdued lighting in the room, and then back at T'Pol. There was hardly enough light to illuminate her form from across the relatively small room. He looked back down at Trip who had now firmly closed his eyes against the perceived brightness. Archer was even more disturbed to see that his friend seemed to be fighting for every breath he took.

"T'Pol, any idea what's wrong with him?" he asked his Science officer.

T'Pol walked over to them and gazed down at the still supine man.

"It might be the effects of the anaesthetic chemical we were exposed to," she proposed as she felt Trip's limp wrist for a pulse.

"I don't remember having the same reaction when I woke up, do you?"

"No Captain, I do not," T'Pol said. "It simply may be that his metabolism cannot support the drug as well as ours, but it is difficult to come to any conclusions without the proper equipment." She placed Trip's arm back down beside him with a gentleness that surprised Archer. "His pulse is somewhat fast for a human, however."

"Will ya just give me a second," Trip grumbled below them. "I'm fine! I'm just trying to decide if I want to see what sort of predicament I've been dragged into this time. I swear, Cap'n, I'm going to have to seriously consider going against your orders the next time you tell me I have to go on an away mission."

Archer laughed with relief at the familiar taunting tone in his friend's voice. It was true he had persuaded Trip on yet another first contact mission with the Zyrians, a terribly diplomatic but gentle people. In fact, the last memory he had was of laughing at Trip's amazement for the stupefying beauty of the gardens that were the pride of the Zyrian planet. Archer had commented that if Trip had followed his instincts to stay onboard the Enterprise to work, he would have missed out on the sight. Trip had made a snide comment, but Jon could not remember it.

"I'm okay, guys. Really," Trip insisted as he attempted to sit up. It was a struggle for him, but with some help from his two crewmates he managed to get himself upright. "See, all better," he claimed as he smiled broadly and leaned heavily against a wall.

T'Pol looked skeptical as she gazed down at the still squinting man. Yet he did seem improved, and she could see that his eyes were adjusting, albeit slowly.

"Take your time, Trip," Archer said and slapped Trip gamely on his shoulder. "There's not much happening around here anyway."

"Where is here? Or don't I want to know that?" Trip asked.

"We're not sure," Jon replied honestly as T'Pol compared the two men's rate of breathing. The commander's was somewhat faster than the captain's, but she said nothing.

Trip was beginning to feel a little stronger despite the pounding ache in his head and the heaviness in his chest. He coughed and opened his eyes wider to see Jon clearly looking at him in concern.

"I'm okay. Really, I'm okay," Trip insisted. "It was just rough waking up. Maybe you better tell me what's happening."

The captain opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a swishing sound as a door suddenly appeared in one of the previously seamless walls. Standing in the doorway were three of the fleshy, hairy-browed, and heavily eared aliens that had tried to steal most of Enterprise right from under the crew's unconscious bodies only months earlier.

Trip groaned at the sight of them.

"Oh man, not these guys again!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Part I

Following Orders Part II

As Archer stood to face their three captors directly, he felt the sudden, stately presence of T'Pol as she positioned herself behind him.

"What do you want with us?" he asked in a level, toneless voice. T'Pol simply stared at the three aliens in a cool way that seemed to unnerve the jumpy creatures.

"Tell the female to stop looking at us in that manner, Captain Archer," growled one of the trio.

Despite the surprise he felt at the mention of his name, Archer calmly turned to his Science officer and for a surreal moment sympathized with his kidnappers. The cold, impassive look on her face was enough to make him want to duck for cover. I'm glad she's on our side, he thought ruefully as he turned back to their captors.

He cocked his head slightly and decided to test the strength of the smaller alien's threat.

"Now, why exactly should I ask her to do that?" he asked, mockingly.

A weapon appeared in the largest of the three's hand so quickly that Archer wondered if it hadn't been there all along.

"Because if you don't, I will make sure that Leor here will kill Commander Tucker," the smallest answered nastily.

Offended, Trip began to fight to a standing position, but Archer made a placating gesture with his hand and the engineer's body fell back against the wall with a muted thump. Not for the first time, Archer wondered about his friend's apparent weakness, but it was not the time to give that thought further consideration.

From their last experience with this particular species, Archer knew that the intensity of their greed could lead them to acts of foolishness. And yet in that same experience, he had also learned that cunning and a certain level of ruthlessness also appeared to be common character traits. The situation would require careful handling.

He gestured for T'Pol to step back, and she complied by kneeling beside Trip. She continued to monitor the weaker man's condition while remaining tense and ready for any required action.

She did not much like these aliens, she thought in what could almost be interpreted as a sneering way.

"Now why don't you just tell us what you want," Archer said with a hint of a warning in his voice.

The three aliens seemed to ignore his demand, as they smirked and guffawed amongst themselves. They seemed overly pleased about what Archer could only assume was their perceived power over their hostages. He looked down at Tucker and T'Pol and could see in the faint disgust on their faces that his two officers were willing to try to overcome the revolting creatures.

"We could take them," Trip mouthed silently to his captain.

Archer had little doubt they could physically overtake the smaller aliens, but the weapon made things a bit chancier. The light sheen of perspiration on Trip's forehead also made any direct offensive questionable. He made a decision to manage the greedy creatures as he had the last time he had been forced to deal with them. He would allow them their feeling of power and somehow use it to his own advantage.

With an almost imperceptible motion of his hand, Archer instructed his other two crewmates to settle back and wait for a command from him. He then turned his attention to their captors in order to gain as much intel as possible.

"Look at her," the one called Leor said. "She is just as Krem described."

"And so are the humans," the leader replied. "Look how weak and helpless they are!"

The third eyed the three officers with doubt. "Are you certain they will be able to get the map for us, Gorak? They don't look very intelligent to me."

Archer heard Trip begin to protest to that last comment and inwardly smiled at his friend's pride. But that particular character trait could bring more trouble than they already had, and he made another placating motion with his hand. He heard Trip's almost inaudible grumble and was momentarily worried the younger man would not back down. But Trip regained his composure quickly and sat back with his lips pressed tightly together as if he were trying hard to keep his opinion to himself.

Archer let the three kidnappers gloat a while longer, but when the crowing started getting tiresome he decided to advance the situation.

"Hey!" he yelled loudly. All three aliens turned their attention to him, and he smiled broadly. "What do you want with us?"

Commander Charles Tucker appreciated order. It was the reason why he had joined Star Fleet, and it was the reason why he loved the warp engines of Enterprise. Both ran efficiently and in an order that he found easy to comprehend.

But ever since he had become commissioned on Enterprise, his need for order had been tested on a regular basis. And it wasn't that he couldn't live in an atmosphere without order; it was just that he preferred not to do so.

But he had been impregnated, tacked up in the gooey body of an alien, and subjected to heatstroke all within the past few months. He had subsequently come to the conclusion that order was something of the past.

Now, listening to the aliens' threats, his conclusions about order were only supported tenfold.

Anger forced him to fight to his feet, and the concerned stare of his captain did nothing to calm him down.

"You did what?" he asked venomously.

"Trip, calm down," Jon told him.

"But, Cap'n!"

"You getting angry won't help this situation," Archer responded emphatically.

Trip saw the wisdom of his words, but they did little to placate him.

"Yes, Cap'n," he mumbled as he slumped back against the wall.

Archer attempted to control his own anger before addressing the three aliens again.

"Why did you poison my engineer?" he asked as calmly as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Part I.

Following Orders Part III.

Gorak grinned ferociously. Up to this point, his plan was working exactly as predicted. The anticipation of the latinum he would earn after this expedition was enough to set his lobes humming. He'd be set for life, a king among his people, revered and…

"Why did you poison my engineer?" Archer asked, and Gorak was brought out of his reverie as he remembered that he didn't have the map quite yet. He allowed his grin to broaden threateningly.

"On the far side of the planet over which my ship is currently hovering there is a civilization of people who have riches enough to rival all that on our homeworld."

Noting from Gorak's explanation that they were no longer on Zyria, Archer pressed further.

"From what we saw of the Zyrians, they aren't exactly as "fortunate" as you describe. And what exactly does that have to do with us?"

"Fool!" Gorak hissed, and the Captain inwardly smirked. These aliens were beginning to underestimate his capabilities, and that was exactly the response he wanted.

"You are no longer near Zyria, Captain," Gorak answered in a patronizing tone. "My ship hovers over a planet called Glorenka. The Renkan's live on the northwest hemisphere of the planet, and somewhere within their Great City's limits lies the map which shows exactly where they keep their sacred vault of riches." Gorak rubbed his hands together gleefully, and his two compatriots nodded and smiled expectantly at their leader.

"Aha. So, again my question is what has this got to do with us?" Archer asked leadingly. He had the idea that he knew where this particular conversation was going to end, and he looked at Trip anxiously.

"You are going to get me that map, or your friend, Commander Tucker, will die within one week," he stated bluntly. "The poison we injected into his system is quite potent, and its effects are not pretty to watch. I have the antidote, but I won't give it to you unless I have the map in my hands."

"A treasure hunt!" Trip cried incredulously. "All of this for a treasure map! Oh man, this is just perfect!"

"Calm down, Trip," Archer said again while keeping most of his attention on the three extortionists."Why can't you just go down there and get it yourself?" he asked them out of genuine curiosity.

Gorak shrugged. "The Renkans are a violent people, and Rule of Acquisition 36 states 'Better to be alive and rich than dead and rich.'"

Realizing this was all the explanation he was going to get, Archer rubbed a hand across his brow. He glanced at his officers to see how they were handling the news and wasn't surprised by T'Pol's overt stoicism or Trip's aghast expression.

"What exactly do you expect us to do?"

After their miserly captors left to gather the information Archer would need to accomplish the task set for them, the three officers discussed their options.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Cap'n!" Trip exclaimed. "I don't want to be the reason for you making deals with these screwy aliens. Besides, I think they're bluffing. I feel just fine."

Archer eyed his friend critically, noted the engineer's paleness and labored breathing, and shook his head.

"Don't lie to me, Trip. If we're going to get through this, you can't lie to me."

Trip sighed heavily and refused to look at his captain directly.

"The captain is right," T'Pol stated matter-of-factly. "There is little we can do to free ourselves if we are locked away in this room. Logic dictates we go to the planet's surface."

"Alright, but I'm going with you," Trip conceded. "I don't want to be left here by myself with those cretins. I don't trust myself around 'em. Might just rip their ugly ears right off," he said with a wavering smile.

Archer returned the smile, and gripped Trip's shoulder meaningfully.

"Agreed. We all leave, or we don't leave at all."


	4. Chapter 4

Following Orders Part IV

Each quietly immersed in their own thoughts, the three Enterprise officers waited for the aliens to return. They had been sitting silently for some time, when Trip asked a sudden question. His voice echoed in the stark room and startled both T'Pol and Archer.

"How do you suppose they knew our names?"

The Vulcan and human stared at Trip sharply as they considered the question and recognized its significance.

"They mentioned a name," Archer began. "Krem, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I believe you are correct, Captain," T'Pol concurred dryly.

"That was the name of the alien who stayed with me while the other three searched Enterprise for our vault when we encountered them the first time," Archer said in sudden realization.

T'Pol's eyebrow arched dangerously.

"Are you suggesting Krem has mentioned us to others of his kind, Captain?"

"Makes sense," Trip said with a hint of irritation lacing his voice. "Little creep probably boasted up and down the quadrant how easily he beat us."

"They do seem to be the boasting type," Archer agreed.

"I wish I could wring that idiot's neck! We should never have let him go! We should have-" Trip's rant ended abruptly in a fit of coughing.

Archer quickly moved to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. When Trip's coughing relented, the captain looked at his friend pointedly.

"Getting upset about the past isn't going to help any of us, Trip. Let's just concentrate on getting ourselves out of the present mess we're in," he suggested forcefully.

Trip gulped in a breath of air before nodding his agreement. "Aye Cap'n," he slurred breathlessly before leaning back against the wall.

"But I'd still like to get my hands on him," he added petulantly.

The shimmer of the odd beam lingered in the moment before their eyes adjusted to the new environment. Their bodies shifted as they tried to recall mass and regain balance and bearing. An instant later, they were solid forms standing in the middle of a tropical forest.

"Everyone okay?" Archer asked as he took stock of their suddenly new surroundings.

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol answered unemotionally.

Trip looked at her with a smirk on his face and wondered how she could maintain her coolness even considering her Vulcan heredity.

"Trip?" Archer asked expectantly.

"Fine, Cap'n. Considering."

"All right, then. We better get moving," Archer said. "We only have a few hours before dark."

They began walking. When the kidnappers had returned to the white-walled room in which the Enterprise crew had been held hostage, they had brought with them directions to the Renkans' Great City. The three had offered little more information other than to remind them that the Renkans were a violent people. However, the aliens had also given them a communicator with capabilities limited to a link between the planet's surface and the ship they were on. With much insistence by Archer-and a whispered word in Gorak's generous ear by Leor-Trip had been permitted to come along. Additionally, a handheld medical device was added to their equipment supply so that T'Pol could monitor Trip's unstable condition. Then, with little further discussion, the three officers were hurried to a transporter room where they were quickly transferred to the planet's surface. The greedy aliens had used the transporter to beam the Starfleet officers outside the city since they had no wish to see their hostages killed as soon as they materialized in a very obvious way within the city limits.

They had been given no supply of food or water and so would have to rely upon skill and luck to replenish themselves. Trip's stomach growled loudly, and he idly speculated about the last time he had eaten. Surely twelve hours ago, at least. He muffled a cough against his sleeve and ruefully wondered if his appetite would be affected by the poison. Probably, given his luck of late. While Leor had whispered advice to Gorak, the shorter alien had looked directly at Trip. The engineer couldn't help but think the little creep was suggesting that having a slowly weakening officer along for the ride would be excellent motivation for Archer and T'Pol to finish the task set out for them. The thought did not bring Trip any hope that his luck was going to turn anytime soon.

"Why me?" Trip muttered as he trudged slowly along behind the Captain and T'Pol.

His head ached, and his limbs felt like lead. His breathing sounded harsh and ragged to his own ears, and he considered the intelligence of his choice to come down to the planet's surface. It had only been a day since he had been poisoned, and already weakness was slipping over him. But he could not imagine being left alone on that alien ship, not knowing whether he would live or die with only the company of the intolerably irritating creeps. With determination set in his jaw, Trip picked up his pace.

"Why me?" he asked himself again.

"Did you say something, Commander Tucker?" T'Pol asked.

Trip jerked his head in her direction and realized he had spoken out loud.

"Well, I was just wondering why it was they chose to poison me. I mean, why is my luck so bad anyway?" he sighed thoughtfully before continuing. "I dunno. I mean, it's not that I would wish this on anyone else, but I suppose it would all make more sense to me if there was a reason behind it." Trip's voice clearly expressed the bitterness he felt for the situation.

T'Pol eyed Tucker critically before replying.

"I do not believe luck had anything to do with the aliens choosing to poison you," she replied thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Trip asked curiously.

"Commander, you overtook three of them when they last boarded Enterprise. I believe Krem has informed our present kidnappers that you are a dangerous man," T'Pol replied.

Trip considered the Vulcan's words, and a large smile spread across his face.

"Hey, yeah! You're probably right about that, Subcommander! I've probably got a legendary reputation amongst their people! I betcha they describe me to their little kiddies as someone who will come to eat them at night if they're bad and don't earn that last piece of latinum!" Trip's pace picked up at the encouraging thought, and he even chuckled to himself.

Archer regarded his Science officer with interest and discreetly moved to her side.

"As I recall, you played a hand in capturing those three invaders as well," he whispered to her covertly.

"In Commander Tucker's present state, any further aggravation, emotional or otherwise, can only affect his condition negatively," she stated calmly. "His respiration rate was increasing as he spoke of his frustration with the situation." She shrugged before continuing. "I simply chose to diminish his aggravation," she said and then walked past the captain to continue their trek.

Archer stopped momentarily to stare at her retreating form and realized T'Pol was starting to gain significant insights into human behavior.

He could only hope that one day he would understand Vulcans as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Following Orders Part V:

They had been walking for approximately two hours when Trip stumbled over a root in his path. He caught himself before he fell, but the sound of his stagger did not go unnoticed. T'Pol and Archer stopped in their tracks and turned back to the weakened officer lagging behind them.

"Trip?" Archer asked.

Worry infused the question, and Trip found himself irritated by its implied doubt in and fear for his abilities.

"I'm fine, Cap'n," he answered harshly. Feeling a bit winded, yet hating the betrayal of his body, Trip allowed himself to lean against some tree-like vegetation. "Just so many damn tree roots around here. It's a wonder any of us can stay upright."

T'Pol snuck out the medical monitoring device their captors had given them and took subtle readings of Trip's bio-signs. The device was primitive, but she was able to ascertain that his heart was racing to the point of intense stress and that his temperature was slowly climbing.

"Will ya stop it with that damn thing! Stumbling over tree roots is aggravating enough without you pointing that inferior piece of technology in my direction every five minutes. I told you I'm fine, and I am! Leave me alone!" Trip yelled out to the Vulcan in a sudden fury.

Unfazed by the commander's outburst, T'Pol calmly gave the captain her analysis of the situation.

"Captain, Commander Tucker is not, as he claims, fine. His heart rate is dangerously accelerated, and his body temperature is approaching 39 degrees. I suggest we stop and rest."

"Are you going to believe that piece of machinery or me, Cap'n? I told you, I'm fine. I just tripped over a root. Yes, my head hurts. Yes, my heart feels like it's gonna leap out of my chest like an unbroken pony. But I can go on a little further," he said emphatically.

Archer silently took in Trip's outward condition and mulled over serious doubts.

"Trip-"

"No, Cap'n. Listen. For whatever reason, those damn aliens put us so far outside this "Great City" or whatever you want to call it that we're probably going to be walking for a while. I've only got a week, and I don't want to stop now. There's no sense in letting me slow you down because it's not going to help the situation any."

"Trip-" Archer repeated achingly.

"I promise. I'll let you know if I can't keep up."

Archer looked at T'Pol, and she returned his gaze noncommittally. The Captain sighed and then nodded his head.

"Alright, Trip. It's your call. But as soon as you need a rest, let me know and we'll stop."

Feeling as if he had just won back a small amount of control, Trip smiled briefly.

"Aye, Cap'n."

Twenty minutes of arduous walking later, Trip felt his body list dangerously to his right. As he began to make his way gracelessly toward the ground, he absently speculated that balance was a thing of the past. With a whispered curse, he fell to the soft forest floor and was grateful when his head didn't hit a tree root. His vision blurred, then spun, and he closed his eyes as he fought down nausea.

He opened his eyes briefly to see the wavering image of Jonathan and swallowed back the bile that had risen up his throat.

"Think I need-a rest now-Cap'n," he stammered out.

The last thing he heard before unconsciousness took him down was the wordless sound of frustration and dismay Archer made.

oOo

When he opened his eyes, the blurry image of flame surrounded by a close circle of darkness was the first thing he saw. A hand placed itself close to his mouth, and he felt a trickle of water enter his slightly parted and cracked lips. He drank greedily and ignored the clenching of his stomach in favor of the relief he felt inside his parched mouth and throat.

"Not too much," a deep, yet feminine voice spoke out. "You will make yourself sick."

"T'Pol," Trip said thickly. "Where are we?"

"As requested, we're taking a rest," Archer's voice boomed from somewhere close by. Trip closed his eyes as the sound of it played havoc with his headache.

"It's dark," the sick man said stupidly.

Archer only nodded in response. "Are you hungry, Trip? There's food?"

Trip wrinkled his nose as the scent of cooked flesh reached him.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"Not sure exactly, but if you use your imagination it looks sort of like a rabbit. Anyway, it tastes like chicken. Have a try." Jonathan moved over to the fire to cut a piece of meat.

"Ahh, I think I'll pass on the alien bunny meat, Cap'n," Trip said and then struggled to sit up.

"Let me help you, Commander," T'Pol said brusquely, and with the surprising gentleness she had demonstrated previously, she supported Trip to a sitting position.

"Thanks," he mumbled gratefully, and then took a closer look around. "I take it we haven't found the city yet," he said bitterly.

"No, Trip. Afraid we haven't," Archer answered.

"Aha. Didn't think so. Damn big-eared misers. Can't even transport us to decent coordinates. How hard is that to do, anyway?" Trip breathed as his eyes began to cloud over again.

"Trip! Trip! Can you still hear me?" Jonathan asked desperately as T'Pol took out the medical monitor and took additional readings. Her clenched jaw did nothing to ease Archer's worry.

"I'm dyin' ain't I, Jon?" Trip asked as his eyes began to droop closed. He leaned heavily against T'Pol's supporting arms, and she carefully settled him back down.

"No, Trip! Do you hear me? We're gonna get through this. Just rest for now, and things will be better in the morning," Jonathan said encouragingly.

The engineer just muttered something unintelligible before lapsing back into unconsciousness.

"How is he?" Archer anxiously asked his Science officer.

The tightness in the Vulcan's jaw only intensified as she gave her report of the engineer's condition.

"I believe the poison is accelerating in its effect," she stated flatly. "It seems the aliens overestimated the time it would take to kill him. The Commander will be unable to continue walking from this point on since any further exertion on his part will overtax his heart."

"You mean he could have a heart attack?"

"Yes, Captain."

Archer rubbed his head as he considered the bleakness of their situation. Gently, he reached out to his friend and took some small comfort from the steady yet rapid movement of Trip's chest.

"Captain, may I make a suggestion?" T'Pol's voice broke the brief episode of quiet.

"Yes, Sub-Commander," Archer said as he looked to her hopefully.

"Allow me to go ahead on my own while you stay here and see to the commander's needs. At the very least, I will be able to determine how far the city is from our current position. Perhaps I will even be able to do some reconnaissance to establish just how adversarial the Renkan people truly are."

Archer thought over T'Pol's words, but he found himself hesitating despite the soundness of her suggestion. One of his officers was already at risk, and he balked at the thought of putting the other in a dangerous situation.

"It's a good idea," he conceded, "but I'll go ahead while you stay here with Trip."

T'Pol blinked coldly before replying.

"Your decision is illogical, Captain," she said bluntly. She quickly added to her assessment before Archer could make further protest. "You are a close friend of the commander's. It is only logical that you should stay with him. Your presence will bring him comfort that I will be unable to give. He is ill and will be better aided by your support than by mine."

Archer stared at her blankly while his mind scrambled to find some way around her logic; there was simply no way he could feel comfortable putting her at risk. But then he looked down at the pained face of his unconscious friend and knew she was right. He might not be happy with the idea of the Vulcan out alone on an alien planet, but there was no better alternative.

"Alright," he conceded, "but wait until morning. It will be safer traveling, and you'll be able to eat and rest."

She nodded and sat next to the fire.

"Yes, Captain."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See first installment.

Following Orders Part VI

At mid-day Trip began to show signs of consciousness, and Archer was by his side instantly. After several moments of struggling, the engineer managed to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but after blinking a few of times he was able to recognize his friend.

"Jon," he rasped. It took him another moment before he realized that the look of concern on his Captain's face was directed at him. Disorientation washed over him, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it of the confusion. The movement made him dizzy, and he closed his eyes again. "Wha…what's goin' on?" he managed to ask.

"Take it easy, Trip," Jonathan said soothingly. "Give yourself a minute. You're sick."

"That part…I got," Trip replied between painful breaths. "Could ya help…me up? This ain't…particularly…comfortable."

Archer nodded in response, and helped the sick man into a sitting position. He grimly noted that Trip was too weak to remain upright under his own power and gently positioned the younger man against a boulder that was close to the fire. Despite Jon's careful movements; however, Trip could not hold back a grunt as pain drummed throughout his muscles. His breathing quickened in response to the throbbing, and he began to cough in a way that frightened Archer.

"Trip?" Archer asked worriedly and hoped for some response.

But Trip did not have the breath to answer, and he sat with his hands clutching his chest desperately as he tried to gain control over his breathing.

"Easy, easy, easy," Archer murmured as he also put a soothing hand to the other man's chest.

Trip's coughing slowly lessened to a deep gasping, and Archer pulled out the alien medical device to monitor the engineer's heart rate. What the device reported did nothing to diminish his fear.

"Trip, listen to me," he said hurriedly. "You have to calm yourself down. Your heart rate is way too high, so I want you to slow your breathing. Just calm down, and you'll be all right."

Jon continued to mutter quiet, yet reassuring instructions to the commander, and Trip, either consciously or unconsciously, managed to control his breathing somewhat.

"I remember now, Captain," Trip mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

"What's that, Trip?" Archer replied.

"Big-eared aliens, treasure maps, and rabbits that taste like chicken."

Archer could not hold back a chuckle as he wondered about Trip's ability to be light-hearted even under these dire circumstances.

After a while, Trip eyed the camp carefully without moving his head and was relieved when he could do so without pain or dizziness. Something seemed different from the last time he was conscious, but it took him a minute to figure it out.

"Where's T'Pol?" he asked once he identified the wrongness that he had sensed.

"She's scouting ahead. She should be back by nightfall," Archer answered simply.

"She's out there all alone?! She shouldn't be out there on her own, Cap'n," Trip took a moment to take a deep breath, and in that moment another realization hit him. "She's out there because of me, ain't she? If I hadn't held you guys up, she wouldn't be out there on her own now. Damn it! I'm so selfish! I should have stayed up there with those greedy, little bastards instead of insisting on coming to the planet with you! I-"

"Trip, calm down now! That's an order!" Archer commanded sharply as he saw the engineer's respiration rate increase.

"But Cap'n-"Trip insisted.

"I said that was an order, Commander!" Archer replied strongly.

Trip's Starfleet training took over and he quieted. "Yes, Captain," he answered respectfully.

"She'll be okay, Trip," Archer said after a while and in an effort to erase the dismay that he knew his younger officer still felt. "Of all the members of my crew, I'm least worried about T'Pol being on her own on an alien planet. She can take care of herself."

Trip nodded, and the captain saw he had placated the commander enough so that the sick man could close his eyes and even drowse a bit. Relieved that Trip's condition seemed to be relatively stable, Archer sat back on his heels and tended the fire.

He found himself thinking about T'Pol, and hoped his assurances about the Vulcan's welfare were true.

Jonathan was still staring into the fire and contemplating their situation when Trip roused himself again.

"What are you gonna do when we find the Renkans?" the engineer asked in a breathless whisper.

"You always ask the good questions, Trip," Jonathan replied. He took a deep breath before answering. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I'm expecting we'll be in a better position to make some sort of plan after T'Pol gets a look at what we're up against. Quite frankly, I'm hoping we can get out of this without even disturbing the Renkans."

"What do you mean, Cap'n?"

Archer had been contemplating approaching Trip with an engineering puzzle since the engineer had last regained consciousness. He knew the man was too weak to work effectively, but he also understood his friend well enough to know he felt a great deal of guilt for not being able to help them out of the situation. At best, Archer's idea would bring Enterprise to them. At worst, it would distract Trip and return a sense of control to him.

"Well, Trip," he began. "I'm not sure how far away we are from Enterprise, but I thought it might be worth a shot trying to contact them."

Trip's eyes narrowed in response, and his thoughtful expression encouraged Jonathan to continue.

"I was wondering if you felt up to playing around with the communicator Gorak gave us," Archer said. "I was hoping you could adjust it so we could hail someone other than our big-eared friends. Maybe we could contact Enterprise."

Trip contemplated the pounding aches that continuously assailed his weakened body, and the dizziness and resulting nausea that assaulted him episodically. He thought about how he had no tools, and how he could barely move his hands and arms. But then he quickly pushed those thoughts aside as he began to envision the possible internal structures of both the communicator and the medical device. An idea began to blossom in his head. It was possible…. It might work….

"I'll need that medical device as well, Cap'n," he said hurriedly. "And can you bash both of them up against a rock or somethin'? Not so hard that you damage the internal components, but I need the covers off of 'em."

Archer smiled and felt a sense of accomplishment akin to the one he experienced the last time he had pulled an especially large trout out of the river near his Earth home. Trip had taken the bait and was running with it.

oOo

By nightfall Trip was still fighting with numerous circuits and complex alien components, but he was showing no sign of defeat. Archer watched the engineer's progress with a mixture of humor and awe. How Trip was managing to make headway given all the physical problems he faced was beyond Jon's comprehension. But he was also relieved to see the commander's breathing had stabilized further, and a visage of calm and contentment had replaced his previous one of panic and frustration.

When T'Pol finally returned to them, she raised an eyebrow at the unexpected scene before her. She had rushed back to the camp with the intent of aiding the commander's rapidly ailing body and was not prepared to see him calmly working. In the instant before her crew members saw her, she realized that had she been anything but Vulcan she would express surprise at the situation. As it was, she could be nothing less than impressed with Captain Archer's abilities.

But all of these thoughts were hidden away within the depths of her Vulcan mind, and none of them could be inferred in the one level word she uttered.

"Captain."

Archer stood instantly and walked to her side.

"T'Pol," Archer said with relief.

"Captain," T'Pol repeated by way of recognition. Her even tone continued as she reported her findings in a four-word summary.

"We have a problem."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See previous installments.

Following Orders Part VII

Archer cringed inwardly at his second-in-command's blunt words and wondered where T'Pol's unexpected sensitivity toward humans had taken off to. Eyeing Trip nervously he was relieved to see that the commander was too wrapped up in the communications problem he was attempting to solve to even notice T'Pol's return.

With a relieved sigh, Archer turned back to the Vulcan and scowled at her.

"Keep your voice down!" he commanded in a rough whisper. "I don't want him to hear about any problems just yet." He directed T'Pol to a position further away from Trip, but not so far that he was out of eyes' reach.

"What exactly is the problem?" he asked.

"It appears that our captors were mistaken in their estimation of the Renkans, Captain," T'Pol began.

"What do you mean?" Archer, in his anxiety, could not help but think the Vulcan's incomplete response was a way for her to play on his human emotions. He absently noted that after all these months with T'Pol acting as his second-in-command, he still had managed to retain some human prejudice toward the Vulcan. He made a mental note to analyze his lingering prejudices after they got themselves out of the current mess.

"The Renkan city does not meet the definition of "great" by any means. In fact it can barely be called a city. Additionally, the Renkans themselves do not appear to be rich in any monetary sense, and I have observed them to be a relatively primitive society of humanoid hunter-gatherers."

T'Pol's flat statements were like a physical blow, and Archer felt the need to sit down. He resisted the urge, yet staggered under the implications of the report. Again he looked toward Trip but with real fear now in his eyes. It was inconceivable that Trip would die, inconceivable that he would lose his best friend.

Harshly, he pushed his frightened thoughts to the back of his mind and returned his gaze to T'Pol.

"Are you sure these people were Renkans? Are you absolutely certain?"

In response to the sharply asked question, T'Pol cocked her eyebrow to express she was still unused to having her opinions doubted. But vaguely she recognized that the Captain's concerns originated not from any doubt in her abilities, but from some human emotion of his own. She chose to ignore the insult and simply answered his question.

"Although I am not as practiced in alien languages as Ensign Sato, I was able to ascertain from conversations I overheard that the village was indeed that of the Renkans, Captain. Yes, I am certain."

Briefly she turned to place her cool gaze on Trip, and Archer had a moment to wonder what she was thinking. But he had no time to make any conclusions regarding her impenetrable mind before she turned back to him.

"Captain, I suggest we proceed to the village despite my observations. The chances of gaining any answers to our dilemma should improve once we make contact with the Renkans. Being the only humanoids we have encountered on this planet, there is a small chance they may be able to aid us," she said quietly.

Although the chances of returning to safety had suddenly plummeted even if they were to manage making contact with the Renkans, Archer had been about to make the same suggestion. It was rare that he agreed so easily with his First Officer, and he allowed himself a moment to feel surprised.

"Agreed," he said and smiled slightly when T'Pol's eyebrow arched even further. He realized she also was experiencing surprise at their agreement inasmuch as Vulcan's felt surprise.

"We'll have to carry Trip somehow, since he's not able to walk anymore," he said in an attempt to begin planning.

"I suggest a stretcher, Captain."

"I know, I thought of that," Archer answered. "But the only vines around here that are able to keep a stretcher in one piece are so tough they make that alien rabbit skin look like melted butter."

T'Pol inwardly reflected on the memory of trying to skin the "rabbit" with a stick and brute force and nodded in agreement.

"We'll carry him together," she stated. "When should we proceed?"

"As soon as possible. I don't know how much time…."

He was interrupted by a sharp cry from Trip.

oOo

While the Captain and T'Pol were planning their next move, Trip continued to make progress toward making contact with Enterprise. Eventually he noticed T'Pol had returned but despite being anxious to know what her intel was, he knew that their best way off this planet was through contact with Enterprise. Besides, the look on the captain's face bespoke of bad news, and Trip didn't mind delaying hearing it. So after sparing a glance at his two crewmates, he returned his attention to the electronic parts spread out before him.

Early on in his pursuit, he had discovered that the limitations of the equipment would not allow for any direct contact with Enterprise. He could; however, create a beacon directed at one of the subspace channels commonly used by the ship. It was a long shot given that he had no idea if Enterprise was one light-year away or one hundred, but a primitive S.O.S. call was better than nothing.

He looked ruefully at the scattered circuits and hoped that their greedy little friends orbiting around the planet didn't decide to make contact anytime soon. He didn't want those bastards becoming antsy and coming down to check on them when they couldn't be hailed.

Although he had been making progress, it had been slow going. He tried to tell himself he was limited only in lack of tools and proper equipment, but his deteriorating body continued to put in its own two cents. The ache in his head was becoming unbearable as he felt each pulse of blood pump heavily and rapidly through it. And although the medical recorder could no longer tell him, he was also certain his fever had spiked dangerously. Neither symptom helped his nausea, and he had to constantly hold down his gorge to keep from vomiting.

And yet he had still managed to make progress. He had remained calm in the face of his decline and had been able to practically complete the job. All he had left to do was to create a couple more new circuits out of wire and components from the medical recorder, and the job would be completed. He just needed a few more minutes before his body could have its way.

But then all the muscles in his right arm and hand unexpectedly clenched furiously, and he dropped the equipment he was holding. Crying out in alarm as the pain intensified, he slumped over his arm in an almost instinctual attempt to ease and protect it.

By the time Archer and T'Pol reached the agonized engineer, the pain was so intense he was barely able to hold onto consciousness. Archer grasped Trip's shoulder to lend support to his friend and felt the muscles there bunch into a tight ball. He was so surprised at the suddenness of the muscle contraction that he pulled his hand away and sat back.

"Trip?" he asked worried and unsure of what to do.

"Damn it, I was...almost done," Trip whispered between clenched teeth. "I just...needed a...l-little more time."

T'Pol moved and bent down over the mechanism Trip had been working on to study it critically. She had the general experience of most Vulcan and Starfleet officers in the field of subspace communication and recognized immediately that the Commander's words were truth. The remainder of the work was uncomplicated and, although it would take her more time than the few minutes Trip required, the work would be relatively easy for her to accomplish.

"Commander, I believe I can finish the work on the beacon. You should rest," she announced.

Archer was grateful for T'Pol's words. The thought of failure would only add to the medical problems Trip faced and would wound his terrific Southern pride further.

"Good job, Trip," he said and hoped the sick man could hear him. "Rest now, and let us help you."

But Trip was practically unconscious from the intense muscular pain that spanned the distance between the upper right quadrant of his back and right hand and could not reply other than to mouth incoherent words. Slowly Archer rubbed the tightened muscles on his friend's shoulder in an attempt to soothe them, but the muscles refused to relax even after Trip sank all the way into unconsciousness a few minutes later. Afterwards, Archer sat heavily on the ground and put his head in his hands. He fought back the hopelessness he felt, and despite Trip's pale face and seemingly lifeless body, managed to push it completely out of mind.

"How long will it take you to finish?" he asked T'Pol roughly.

In spite of her own Vulcan emotional ambiguity, T'Pol recognized that the captain was under incredible emotional strain. Having an idea of the intensity with which humans responded to stressful situations, she was considerably impressed by Archer's ability to maintain focus on their objective.

"Not more than three hours," she answered simply and with nothing of the newfound respect coloring her tone.

Archer wondered how much more the commander's body could withstand, and if any new side effects to the alien poison would arise within three hours. He practically itched with the desire to do something instead of waiting three hours helplessly while T'Pol finished working. But he also saw that having a working beacon was the best chance they had to getting Trip to safety.

"Alright, we'll wait here until you finish. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," he said, even though he knew that more than one person working on such delicate equipment would be awkward and time consuming.

"Yes, Captain," T'Pol said and bent her head to the work.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Following Orders Part I

Following Orders Part VIII:

The progress was slow going at best. Trip, still unconscious after the hours it took to complete the beacon for Enterprise, hung limply between Archer and T'Pol. T'Pol had attempted to ease the muscle contractions in the sick man's arm and back by using a few Vulcan massage techniques, but the muscles refused to relax. Archer could barely keep the stiffened arm over his shoulder, a circumstance that further interfered in the threesome's ability to travel.

An hour after continuing their journey, Trip was jarred into consciousness after T'Pol tripped at the unexpected change in the engineer's momentum when his right foot became caught in a tangle of tenacious weeds. His return to awareness was unwelcome, and as he tried to gain his bearings he wished for the relief that only seemed to come now from unconsciousness.

He weakly lifted his head and recognized by the unsteadiness of the horizon and the sudden lurching of his stomach that he was being moved. He groaned softly and allowed his head to fall back down between his shoulders.

"Trip?" he heard Jon's voice somewhere above his head, but he could barely respond to it.

"Stop," he muttered.

"What?" Archer asked in confusion.

"Can we s-stop for a-a minute?" he stammered out between clenched teeth and with a considerable amount of urgency.

Archer nodded to T'Pol and together they slowly lowered Trip's weakened body to the ground until he lay on his back. T'Pol placed a cool hand on Trip's sweat-soaked forehead, and Jon saw her lips tighten in response to the waves of heat she felt emanating from the engineer's face. Trip exhibited a frailty Archer had never seen in his friend before and which was frightening to witness.

He sat down heavily next to Tucker and kept a close eye on him. Trip appeared to be struggling against something, and Jon was about to ask him what was wrong when the engineer began to gag and retch. Quickly, Archer pushed Trip onto his side in order to keep the helpless man from aspirating on the bile and liquid he violently threw up.

When the vomiting was over, Jon returned Trip onto his back and quietly asked T'Pol to find some water.

"This is embarrassin'," Trip gasped out weakly, and Jonathan could not hold back a short chuckle over the younger man's preoccupation with his pride.

Gently, he wiped away the few involuntary tears that spread from Trip's eyes and gave him a supportive smile.

"I promise that when we get back to Enterprise I won't say a word to the rest of the crew. And I'll order T'Pol to silence if it makes you feel better."

Trip was blearily thankful, but he still suspected he would never hear the end of this particular episode in their friendship, provided he survived to make it back to the ship.

"Where are we?" he asked as he pushed aside the negative thoughts.

"Not far from the Renkan city," Archer replied, all the while feeling slightly guilty about his omission of T'Pol's previous discoveries.

"The beacon?"

"It is completed and operating efficiently," T'Pol answered as she returned with a small, hollow tree log filled with water. She allowed Trip a short drink and then gently began wiping down his face with her hands.

"We hid the device under some vegetation. Hopefully it'll keep until Enterprise can locate us," Archer explained further.

Trip nodded and closed his eyes. He tried to ignore all the physical stimuli he was experiencing from the poison and instead attempted to concentrate solely on the feeling of T'Pol's hands as she continued to cool his face. The sensation was blessed relief, and he was almost soothed into a blissful and genuine sleep.

But the captain's voice interrupted his reprieve, and as he opened his eyes the pain returned to assail him.

"Trip, I'm sorry, but we have to get to the Renkan city quickly. Do you think you'll be able to manage?"

Trip considered saying no. He wanted the oblivion of sleep. He wanted the pain to end. He just wanted to give up.

But he could not disappoint his captain, his friend. And so he weakly raised his left arm, and held back the cries of pain as they lifted him upright and began walking again.

"We'll keep contact with the Renkans as limited as possible," Archer said to T'Pol as they walked. "I don't want this to get any more complicated than it has to be."

T'Pol nodded her head in agreement, and her respect for the Starfleet captain heightened again. They would be contending with a pre-warp society, and she appreciated the wisdom of remaining as distant and discrete as possible.

Their progress was now made easier by Trip's consciousness, as well as his feeble attempts to keep his legs from tangling over every obstacle in their path. But they had been walking in excess of an hour, and each of them was tiring. She gritted her teeth and lifted the commander's arm higher in her grip.

Suddenly she heard a small rustle of vegetation off the path behind them, and she hesitated slightly in her step. Archer noticed the break in her pace and turned a questioning gaze in her direction.

"What is it?" he asked.

Trip, whose head had been lolling between his shoulders again, managed a quick glance up at the Vulcan and also recognized the tension in the line of her jaw as an indication that something was not quite in order.

"Oh, don't tell me," he muttered cynically. "Something's wrong."

"Trip, shhh," the captain commanded quickly. "What is it?" he again asked the subcommander.

"I believe we are being followed, Captain," T'Pol replied calmly.

"Great. Oh, just dandy," Trip mumbled.

"Trip, quiet. We don't know what it is. It could be-"

The Captain was interrupted by the abrupt cries of several heavily camouflaged humanoid figures as they rushed from the vegetation and aimed primitive yet dangerous weapons at the three officers.

"So much for discretion," Archer said under his breath as he tried to observe the hard-to-see aliens.

T'Pol looked at him sharply, but made no further comment.

The humanoids separated the three of them, and Trip fell heavily to the ground without the support of the others' arms. He groaned loudly and then lay still. Archer moved toward his officer, but was blocked by a particularly tall alien who shouted something at him in an unintelligible language. Furious, Archer made another move past the hulking figure, but this time was pushed away and forced to walk forward on the path. Ahead, he saw T'Pol being directed the same way, but he was unable to catch another glimpse of Trip. Helpless, he could only hope they were all being lead to the same location.

As he walked, Archer watched the humanoids. Based on how close they were to the village, he supposed they actually were Renkans. Each was much taller than any human or Vulcan he had ever seen, but he could discern little more of their physical attributes due to the camouflage. It wasn't until they were paraded through the middle of a hut-filled village that Archer realized the camouflage was actually part of the Renkan anatomy and not added on by other means. Each Renkan appeared to have the ability to blend effortlessly into their environment much as many species of Earth chameleon could. The effect was not so complete that the figures were invisible to the human eye, but it was quite impressive nonetheless. As figures moved from area to area, their bodies shifted quickly from one series of colors to another depending on their surroundings. Despite the uncertainty of his situation, Archer could not help but be amazed.

He was so preoccupied by the stunning characteristic that he did not realize at first they had stopped in front of one of the larger huts. He looked up at the Renkan who earlier had blocked him from Trip, and the taller humanoid pushed him into the hut along with T'Pol. It was dark inside, with only a small torch in a far corner lighting the large, single room.

Before he could make any further observations, Archer was distracted when another Renkan entered the hut with Trip over his shoulder. The Renkan roughly dropped Trip to the floor and abruptly left without saying a word. Before either Archer or T'Pol could move to the engineer's side, another figure inside the hut moved from a dark corner into their field of view.

Archer's astonishment was so strong his breath practically caught in his throat.

"Krem!" he shouted at the small, large-eared alien in front of him.

*** Author's note: For those of you who haven't seen "Acquisition," Krem is the downtrodden little Ferengi that supervised Archer throughout the episode.


	9. Chapter 9

Following Orders Part IX

Disclaimer: see Part I

"What are you doing here?" Archer asked dangerously.

Sudden fury overwhelmed him as he irrationally and uncontrollably found himself blaming Krem for every wrong turn that had occurred since Trip, T'Pol, and he had been kidnapped.

Before replying, Krem took a calm moment to regard the starship captain and the rag-tagged crew that was with him. In that moment, Jonathan noted something had changed about the little alien since they had had their unwanted and unhappy first meeting on Enterprise. Krem looked somehow calmer and more assured of himself. Archer momentarily wondered at the change, but his anger was too strong to occupy excessive thought to the alien's seeming metamorphosis.

Krem took a breath and then bowed his head slightly.

"Captain, I'm sorry to see you here," he said in a tone of true apology.

"That makes two of us," Archer retorted. "Why don't you explain to me what exactly is going on."

"I'm not sure myself," Krem replied. "Perhaps if you explain to me first how you came to be here, I can better answer your question."

Archer pushed away the part of himself that was proudly insisting Krem answer the questions instead of the other way around. Being pushy would not help their situation, and he sensed no guile from the alien. But he remained wary nonetheless as he told Krem their story.

When he retold how Trip had been poisoned, the little alien rushed to the side of the fallen officer. He placed a steady palm on Trip's burning forehead and pursed his lips in an unexpected manner. Carefully, he probed the muscles of Trip's arms, and Trip moaned painfully in response. Archer saw concern and guilt enter Krem's eyes, and he almost felt sorry for the little guy. Baffled, the captain remained silent as the alien continued his examination.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he responded. "This is a poison commonly used by my people for coercion, and I do not have an antidote here in my possession. The best I can offer is a tonic which will prolong his life functions for a day or two more."

Archer clenched his jaw, and glanced at T'Pol. She looked at him impassively, but he noticed her own tightened jaw.

Not knowing how else to respond, Jonathan nodded in what felt like a futile gesture. Krem called out in a guttural tone, and one of the Renkans appeared in the doorway. Krem continued to talk in the strange language, and Archer supposed he was discussing ingredients for Trip's tonic with the other tall alien.

When he was done, Krem asked Jonathan to continue the story. Archer retold the tale as quickly as possible, and when he was finished the little alien sighed deeply and his look of sorrow deepened.

"This is my fault, Captain, and I will do everything in my power to rectify the situation. But you must realize how grim your situation is."

Confused, Archer shook his head. "All I know is that my friend is dying," he stated simply.

Krem nodded.

"That is true, Captain. Without the tonic, he will be dead within the next few hours. As it is, he has at most two days to live if we do not acquire the antidote soon."

Archer felt cold fear trail down his spine, and he raked a hand through his hair. Krem calmly patted the captain's arm and motioned him to sit on what appeared to be a collection of woven mats in the corner of the room. Archer gratefully sat and was surprised at the sudden tiredness that coursed through him.

"Captain, you may have noticed that I am not typical of my people," Krem said with a slight smile.

Archer nodded in response but was silent as he wondered where this conversation would take them.

"The entire existence of my people centers around acquisition. It is the only action that makes our lives worth living, and our material possessions determine our social status and success," Krem explained. He then chuckled quietly at some private joke, and looked pointedly at Archer. "I was never very good at acquiring things. I just never had the taste for it. In fact, I was the shame of my family. You see, I've never been forceful or deceptive, and these qualities are necessary for acquisition.

"When you gave me control of that ship, you gave me the power to implement a plan I had been dreaming of for most of my life. Shortly after I left your ship, I dropped my compatriots off at the nearest star station and then explored this area of space. I discovered this planet and realized that the Renkans' quiet existence suited my quiet personality. So, I made the decision to spend the rest of my life here. But first I had to convince my family I was actively acquiring great material goods so they would not hunt me down to badger me out of my newfound life of non-acquisition."

Archer suddenly saw where this story was leading them. "You lied to them," he said.

"Yes, that's correct, Captain. I told my family I had found a wealthy civilization, and that I planned to single-handedly acquire control of its fortune. My relatives were a bit dubious of my capabilities at first, but they were easily swayed after I showed them fake maps and battle plans. Besides, they were already somewhat convinced of my prowess after I told my story of how I swindled a star-ship captain out of goods and a small spacecraft all on my own."

Archer groaned as his mind finished the story for him.

"But you also convinced them that the Renkans were dangerous people, and by doing so you further deterred any family members from seeking you out," he said grimly. "But after some time passed and no one heard from you, they became curious and greedy for the wealth you mentioned. So they kidnapped us to do a job they found too dangerous to do themselves."

"I'm afraid so, Captain," Krem responded. "Gorak, Arkin, and Leor are my most miserly first cousins."


	10. Chapter 10

Following Orders Part X

Disclaimer: See first installment.

Archer closed his eyes wearily after Krem admitted his cousins' involvement in their kidnapping, and he leaned against the wall of the hut. After a moment, he slowly reopened his eyes and glanced at Trip who was being tended to by T'Pol. The engineer was curled onto his side in obvious discomfort, and the sight of his twisted body brought into focus the fear Archer had been trying to ignore.

Noting the human's concern, Krem shuffled to the commander's side again. As he did so, the Renkan with whom he had conferred earlier entered carrying a bowl filled with a viscous liquid. Krem nodded his thanks to the hard-to-see alien and then motioned Archer over. Hampered by fatigue, Jon stood slowly and moved to crouch by his friend.

T'Pol, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to ease the painfully clenched muscles of Tucker's back with another Vulcan massage technique, wordlessly stepped away from the commander when Krem started moving his hands over the human's contorted body. She observed the alien carefully and was prepared to intercede if she sensed any harmful intent toward her shipmate.

"In my people, the poison primarily attacks the skeletal system," Krem explained as he explored the muscles of Trip's upper back. "Apparently it has the same effect on yours," he continued while looking up at Archer.

Trip groaned loudly as Krem manipulated a particularly tender muscle.

"I coulda told ya that," he gasped weakly, and Archer noticed with some alarm that Trip had begun slurring his words.

"Just try to stay calm, Trip," he responded. "We're going to give you something to help."

Trip's reply was to issue another groan. He then clumsily pushed his head further into the dusty floor of the hut in an attempt to escape from the agony in his back. The pain really was excruciating, and respite from it had been rare in the past hour. In an unfocused thought, it occurred to him that he might be willing to accept death if only the incessant pain would stop.

In consideration of the sick man, Krem lowered his voice as he further explained Trip's illness to the Captain and T'Pol.

"Untreated, his joints will be attacked next, and when that happens his breathing will become compromised as his ribs become inflexible. Death follows soon after, but overall the effects of the poison are hard to watch and even harder to experience."

"Coulda tol' ya that, too," Trip rasped. "I can hear what you're sayin',ya know. Nothin' wrong with my ears."

"Trip, please, just rest and let us try to figure this out," Archer responded gently while carefully hiding his exasperation.

"It ain't exactly easy to rest, Captain!" Trip said with energy that surprised Archer. But it was ill-spent energy from depleted stores, and Trip visibly wilted after his outburst. "It's just that, uh, it hurts, Cap'n."

"A minute more, and I'll give you the tonic," Krem said gently. "I just need to be sure of the extent of the damage to your system."

The little alien probed a muscle in Trip's right leg. The pain was exquisite, and Trip almost lost awareness with it. His vision blurred sickenly, and he closed his eyes, all the while welcoming the oblivion of unconsciousness.

But that reprieve did not last long, and as hearing and eyesight slowly returned he found himself focusing on the voices around him.

"He has had other symptoms," T'Pol was saying impassively.

Trip felt more than saw Krem's head move up in alarm.

"What other symptoms?" Krem asked.

"His heart rate and breathing have been erratic, and he has been running a high fever," T'Pol stated simply. "He vomited once as well."

Trip re-experienced the embarrassment of that particular side effect, and then consciously noted the nausea had been building during their time in the Renkan city. He had been naively dismissing it and now miserably hoped he could keep his stomach contents where they normally resided. But he had the unfortunate impression this was a futile hope.

"These are not normal side-effects of this particular poison, Captain," Krem responded. "I'm not sure if the tonic will affect him the same way as it does my people. There may be unforeseeable consequences."

Archer put his head in his hands as he considered the options. He was desperately unsure, and this was not a feeling to which he was accustomed. If he were the one who had been poisoned, he knew the choice would be an easier one. But he wasn't the one in danger, and indecision plagued him.

"Cap'n," Trip unexpectedly offered. "I'm gonna die if I don't take it. Might..." Trip was interrupted as he felt the nausea rise again. He took a deep breath and continued. "Might as well take the stuff."

Archer smiled and was secretly relieved to have the decision off his shoulders.

"Okay, Trip," he said gently. "Okay."

With T'Pol's help, Archer moved Trip onto his back and supported the engineer's head and spine so that his head was positioned slightly above his chest. Trip somehow managed to stifle the screams that were his response to the devastating pain of movement, but in doing so he found he had given the nausea a chance to overtake him.

Archer nodded to Krem, who brought the bowl of the thick liquid to Trip's lips. The noxious smell of it overwhelmed the engineer, and Trip closed his eyes against it.

"I need-need a minute," he said breathlessly.

"Okay, just stay calm," Archer soothed and nodded at Krem again.

Fresh air replaced the ugly fumes he had breathed in the moment before, and Trip was able to regain some control over his rebelling stomach.

"You ready to try now?" Archer asked, and Trip stiffly nodded in assent.

Again the bowl was brought to his lips, and this time he gulped down as much of the stuff as he was able. He found swallowing difficult since in addition to the horribly pungent taste of the vile tonic, the muscles in his mouth would not respond in the way he directed them to. Consequently, much of the sticky liquid ran down his neck and over his uniform. Tears leaked from his eyes as he again felt the humiliation of his weakness.

In a hurried and unexpected motion, T'Pol briskly wiped the tonic off the commander's face and neck with the arm of her uniform. Archer looked at her grimly and yet was overthrown by the Vulcan's ability to share in Trip's emotions.

Trip looked at her gratefully, and Archer was further shocked to see the edges of T'Pol's lips curl up to give the illusion of a kindly smile. This simple act that he took for granted in others was one his curiosity would force him to ask the emotionless T'Pol about later.

"Now we wait," Krem announced.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See previous installments. ***

Following Orders Part XI

Archer's light doze was interrupted by a hushed query from T'Pol.

"Krem, where did you find the ingredients for Commander Tucker's tonic?"

Although they had been resting for only a few minutes, the captain's curiosity was well enough peaked for him to be able to pull himself away from his exhaustion. T'Pol's question was a good one, and it probably should have been asked before they had given the tonic to Trip. Hastily he looked down at the nearby engineer but was not awarded by any improvement. Trip still held onto consciousness but was in too much pain to interact with them effectively. Jonathan had the sudden urge to pat his friend supportively on the back but was too afraid of hurting Trip in doing so. Instead, surprised by the urgency with which he desired an answer to the Vulcan's question, he turned his attention to the little alien.

Krem at first looked sheepishly at the two officers, but after a moment's hesitation he took a deep breath and straightened his spine in an affectation of pride.

"I told you that I was not devious," he said to both officers, "but neither am I stupid. I had a small stockpile of simple technology and basic medicines that I brought to this planet with me. I wanted a change of pace, to be sure, but I didn't want my life to be too difficult. It's how I've managed to reach the position I have here in the Renkan society. They see me as some sort of high priest who can make magic and heal their sick ones," the little alien smiled broadly to show two great rows of crooked teeth. "These things have made my life on this planet quite pleasurable."

Archer sensed T'Pol's disapproval in the change of her posture and placed his hand on her shoulder. Although he knew she felt no emotion, he did not deny himself the human behavior of placation. Additionally, he felt the beginnings of a plan begin to stir in his mind, and he did not want to be distracted by the lecture he felt sure was about to issue forth from her mouth.

"Krem?" he asked while trying to hold back his hope and excitement. "You wouldn't happen to have communicators and phase pistols in your collection, would you?"

Trip looked over to the other side of the hut where the captain and T'Pol were discussing something with the alien. The captain seemed excited, but Trip was having a difficult time understanding the conversation. He closed his eyes and briefly rested them, before opening them widely again and blinking several times to clear his sight. The results were a bit better, and after concentrating as well as he could in his condition, he began making sense of the discussion.

"T'Pol, do you know what frequency that communicator was set to?" the captain asked hurriedly.

"I am uncertain," T'Pol replied. "The commander had adjusted the frequency prior to my continuing his work. We should attempt to ask him."

Trip wasn't sure what T'Pol had said in reply since his vision had begun to swim again, and his mind was all covered in cobwebs. However, when all three pairs of eyes turned his way, he knew a question was going to be posed to him. He breathed in as deeply as he could and closed his eyes again in an attempt to promote what little stores of energy he had left. He did not reopen them until he heard his name spoken directly above him.

He managed to recognize the captain's features from the blurry form in front of him, and he attempted a smile despite his doubt of its outcome.

"Cap'n," he whispered in acknowledgement.

"Trip, it's very important that you answer this question. Do you understand?"

" Wha' did you say?" Jonathan's voice sounded as if it were coming from the other end of a tin can telephone. Trip could barely make sense of it.

Archer looked on in alarm and then turned toward Krem.

"What's happened to him?" he asked with real worry. "How could he have gotten so much worse in such little time?"

Trip felt hands prodding his back again, but this time the pain was not as intense and he bore it easier than he had during Krem's initial inspection.

"Actually, Captain, he's much better," Krem replied happily. "Unfortunately, I think some non-essential systems have been affected by the tonic."

T'Pol looked on impassively and then nodded. "He does appear to be disoriented, Captain."

Trip understood little of what was being said as the conversation continued to buzz above him. The sound of it made him feel ill, and he closed his eyes against it. He had almost managed to fall asleep when the sudden jolt of a slap across his face brought him back to something resembling consciousness.

Angered, he looked up to find the captain eyeing him apologetically.

"You hit me!" Trip spat out in a slur.

"I'm sorry, Trip, but we need you conscious enough to answer a couple of questions. I need to know what frequency that alien communicator was set at before you adjusted it."

"What? Why? I...I can't remember. Lemme sleep," Trip mumbled as his eyes began to droop again.

"Commander, if you go to sleep, I swear I'll hit you again!" Archer's voice was a whip-crack that cleared Trip's thoughts in an instant. He looked at Archer angrily but made a great effort to hang onto focused thought.

"What was the frequency, Trip?" Archer asked urgently.

Trip took a moment to think back to the communicator, but it seemed as if he had made its adjustments an eternity ago. Slowly he recalled each painstaking movement as he had performed the alterations and then suddenly revisited the surprise he had experienced when he had noted the weakness of the original frequency at which the machine had been set.

"Epsilon," he breathed out.

"Epsilon?" the captain responded with his own surprise. "Trip, are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure," was Trip's bleary reply. "I switched...it. Gamma. I changed it to gamma. Malcolm's gonna find us with gamma. Guaranteed. Stuck here."

Archer smiled with newfound hope and turned toward Krem who nodded his head confidently. "Good, Trip. You did real good. You rest now, and don't worry. We're not going to be stuck here for long."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See previous installments.

Following Orders Part XII

Trip was aware of very little that went on around him, and of that he comprehended even less. His world had narrowed down to a tightrope's edge of pain and disorientation that made his head swim with disjointed and disturbing images. The people that stood over him appeared blurry and overstretched.

To make matters worse, somewhere outside of his head someone was shrieking loudly. He fervently wished they would stop because the sound was disturbing him.

But the screaming did not end until something vile and pungent was forced down his throat, and he had the outrageous but suddenly coherent thought that he had been the one who had made those awful noises. He choked on the thick liquid that had quieted his own screams and felt his body shake with laughter despite the incongruity between this response and his current condition. He closed his eyes, and let the odd emotional response occur. He supposed it was possible he was going insane, but he didn't much mind. That realization made the misplaced laughter take him over and force a stream of tears to squeeze from between his closed lids.

He must have lost consciousness, because awareness came back to him in dizzying, sudden clarity. He felt hands wiping away the sweat, tears and grime that coated his face and only had to squint slightly to see T'Pol.

"Commander?" the Vulcan asked in what could almost be interpreted as a tentative tone of voice.

"Yeah," Trip responded and was both shocked and frightened by the weakness he experienced from simply giving voice to that one word. Yet, from some unknown source of energy within himself, he managed a question. "What's goin' on?"

"Are you well?" T'Pol asked, and Trip felt a moment's irritation as he realized she had ignored his question. He chose to answer hers anyway.

"Don't think so," he said, shakily. "Everythin'...hurts, and I can..barely move. There's a...bitter...taste in my mouth," he added as nausea overtook him again.

T'Pol continued to wipe Trip's face, and then gently lifted his right arm to continue the process with his fingers and hand. Trip tried not to scream at the agony the gentle movement caused him, but he could not keep from groaning in response.

"I apologize, Commander, but I have been informed that if no permanent damage is to occur to your musculature, you must be continuously massaged. The bitter taste in your mouth originates from a second dose of an alien remedy that should help ease some of the symptoms of the poison. Unfortunately, it appears as if the antidote does not work as well on human physiology as it does on that of other species."

Trip was unable to say anything further for a moment, and he forced himself to look to his surroundings in order to distract himself from the pain.

"Breathe, Commander Tucker," T'Pol directed. "I believe it will help you through the pain."

Trip turned his gaze toward her in momentary acknowledgement but was slow to follow her suggestion. Something wasn't quite right, and he couldn't identify it. Forcing himself to breathe, he looked around again and noticed various, hard-to-see humanoids milling around the shack-like structure in which he was currently lying. Additionally, a familiar- looking, big-eared and sharp-toothed little alien lurked around the edges of his field-of-vision.

"Who're they?" he managed to gasp out.

"The smaller alien is Krem, one of the aliens who tried to take over Enterprise a few months ago."

Trip sorted through his memories and managed to pick out one in which he had skulked around in his underwear for hours on end. He grimaced in remembered embarrassment. Better to leave that particular memory in the past.

"The others," T'Pol continued, "are the Renkans, the native inhabitants of this planet."

Trip took a closer look at the tall aliens, and his heart began to thud heavily in his chest. His face grew flushed and visibly expressed his distress.

"Commander, calm yourself," T'Pol commanded as she began to wipe his face down again.

"T'Pol, what in HELL is going on?" In his anxiety, Trip almost managed a genuine shout.

"Commander, you must calm down," T'Pol repeated but was interrupted by the engineer's continued outburst.

"T'Pol, these people..these people are not wealthy! What is going on?! There is no map, is there?! There's nothing! What is going on?!" Trip's breathing became increasingly irregular as his rambling became weaker, and dizziness overwhelmed him once more.

"You should not worry, Commander. The captain has a plan," he heard T'Pol reply in the instant before he lost consciousness again.

oOo

Up until this point, the plan had been working perfectly. Using one of Krem's hoarded communicators, Archer had managed to contact the greedy misers who had gotten them all into this horrendous mess and convince them he had the map in his possession. And it had not taken a lie to persuade them that his engineer was too ill to be transported up to the ship, or that T'Pol should stay on the planet's surface to care for the sick man.

He knew it would be a tricky piece of work to overcome the disorientation of the transporter and start shooting away with the single phaser that Krem had thought to bring with him to the planet, but he had no choice in the matter. All he had working for him was the element of surprise, and so he planned a spectacular display of fancy shooting. Afterwards, when all of the materialistic aliens were hopefully lying stunned on the deck of their ship, Archer expected to retrieve the antidote to the poison coursing through Trip's body and to find some way to return to the planet's surface.

It was definitely a risky strategy, but by placing his finger on the stun button of the phaser he had hidden behind his back, he was able to start firing as soon as he felt his feet solidly placed on the deck of the alien ship. In fact he had succeeded in stunning all three aliens before the unthinkable had occurred.

Archer had only a moment to feel exalted at the unlikely success of his last-chance rescue attempt, when his sight caught a flash as the dim light from the ship's ceiling reflected off a clear and fragile looking vial. Too late, Enterprise's captain recognized the precious antidote vial loosely grasped in the falling alien leader's weakening hands. Time slowed to a painful crawl, and as Jonathan looked on helplessly the vial fell to the ground and shattered.

When the antidote splattered over the deck and walls, Archer felt his own stance weakening as the full consequences of his now obviously brash actions became clear.

He had just killed his closest friend.


	13. Chapter 13

Following Orders Part XIII

Disclaimer: See previous installments.

After the commander lapsed back to unconsciousness, T'Pol redoubled her efforts to retard any permanent damage to the man's body by vigorously massaging his upper torso. Although the stimulation to the muscle had to be done (and done properly, according to Krem), the Vulcan found it difficult to do when the engineer was conscious. It was obvious the therapy caused him a great deal of pain, and despite all the logic to the contrary, T'Pol had found herself easing the pressure behind her fingers in order to quiet the commander's stifled cries that were the response to her ministrations.

While she worked, and not for the first time, T'Pol considered the ineffectiveness that often resulted from the Vulcan logic she tried to use in her dealings with humans. If she had been human, she might have been amused by the irony of her situation. On Vulcan, she was looked upon as a young and occasionally rebellious individual. In fact, although her commission in the High Command had been respectfully and properly earned, many had had doubts about her abilities to mute her inherently oppositional behavior well enough to succeed in her chosen field.

But despite being a bit of an upstart, T'Pol was highly intelligent, clever, and visionary enough to know how to obtain her goals. And what those goals were and had been for as long as she could remember, were to discover new life forms, to interact with them, and to work with them toward shared appreciation and understanding. These were secret desires which she carefully sublimated according to the rules of her people. Nonetheless they were desires she remembered and treasured in her own, emotionless Vulcan way.

In fact, both Commander Tucker and Captain Archer would have been shocked to discover that far beneath the many layers of Vulcan logic and ritual control beat a heart as strongly passionate as their own.

She had striven for accomplishment in her dealings with the humans, because it had been readily clear to her they were a species driven by their curiosity and thus were destined for exploration. The idea of observing another life form as they discovered the wonders of space for the first time mesmerized her and drove her to seek out the position of Vulcan advisor. She believed herself to be the logical choice, since she had experienced some success living on the human planet and since her unique personality allowed her the opportunity to manage a lifestyle that could possibly include human emotion. The High Command had also agreed she was the logical choice for the position since her resilience was acceptably suitable for dealing with the unpredictable emotions of the humans.

And thus she had earned her position on Enterprise where the irony of her situation had first become apparent to her.

For a Vulcan who considered herself an open-minded and an occasionally expressive individual, T'Pol suddenly found herself considered impossibly logical and intolerably unemotional. And although her logic dictated that she not be influenced by the thoughts of the humans, intermittently she would find herself meditating just a bit longer in order to maintain a structured line of thinking.

Suddenly, T'Pol was driven away from her thoughts as the muscle on which she was working suddenly seized violently, and the commander yelled out even in unconsciousness. She gently stroked back his hair with one hand in a gesture she knew from experience would comfort him. It was at this time that she was struck by a hazardous thought.

She wanted the commander to live, and wanting was a dangerous thing for a Vulcan. It was one thing to keep hidden a secret yet logical goal for her life's work, but something completely different when wanting was directed towards an illogical end. And all logic dictated that the commander would die, in fact should have died already.

But it was the fact that, according to her rules of logic, he should have already died that made the wanting assert itself more.

She had learned that humans could be driven by emotions, and the commander defied logic on a consistent basis, was doing so now despite the pain it caused him. Yet he was still alive, which made her want to hope, and that want was an impossibility for her.

As T'Pol became confused by her thoughts, she recognized her need to meditate and wondered when the captain would return so that she could perform an abbreviated ritual. Her thoughts were drawn to him, and she considered the probability of his plan succeeding. She had serious doubts, since the variables against a positive outcome were so many. She believed the captain had a fair opportunity for smuggling the phase pistol aboard the alien ship since the creatures were so obviously eager to obtain the map. This eagerness would offer the prospect that they would transport the captain aboard without scanning him for weapons. As far as the rest of the plan was concerned, T'Pol did not believe the element of surprise could possibly counteract all the other factors working against success. She had tried to explain her thoughts to the captain, but like so many other times, he had told her he had to try and then had left her alone to tend to the commander.

With these thoughts her need to meditate strengthened, but T'Pol outwardly displayed this need only by lifting her left eyebrow slightly and continuing to do the logical thing. She attempted to clear her mind as the muscles in the commander's back trembled violently beneath the workings of her hands.

She had almost managed to find a calmness similar to the one she achieved after meditation when Krem ran into the hut with a frantic air about him.

"You must leave, now!" he whispered to her harshly, and as he did so she felt the need to meditate reassert itself.


	14. Chapter 14

Following Orders Part XIV

Disclaimer: See previous installments.

The little alien was small but much faster than T'Pol anticipated. Before she registered the movement, Krem was pressing what looked to be a rudimentary hypospray against the commander's throat. When she saw her crewmate almost immediately return to consciousness after the contents of the hypospray had been dispensed, T'Pol felt the first inklings of anger and frustration threaten to break through her fragile control.

"What are you doing?" T'Pol asked Krem carefully.

Krem ignored her question and somehow managed to pull the commander to a sitting position despite the discrepancy in their sizes. When T'Pol realized she was getting no response, she put a gentle but strong hand on the engineer's shoulder and successfully kept the little alien from making any more progress. She was about to ask her question again, but the commander beat her to it.

"Ahhh, damn...what is going on?" Trip managed to gasp out through clenched teeth.

T'Pol looked the ill man over and noted his graying pallor and hitched breathing. She stared pointedly at Krem, and the alien did not require additional words to understand he would get no further in his task of moving either officer until their questions were answered.

Krem sighed deeply and impatiently before offering a hurried explanation.

"The Renkans are a highly superstitious species. It took six months before I could convince them I was of no harm, and then another three before they understood I was actually trying to help them with the technology I brought with me."

T'Pol arched one eyebrow but said nothing. She nodded at Krem to indicate she wished him to continue.

"Physically, I'm small which keeps me from looking too dangerous. Additionally, my cousins and other acquaintances did much to teach me how to act subordinately, and these qualities helped me win over the Renkans. However, you and your companions have alarmed them with your obviously strong physical attributes, and I might add, your loud and angry voices.

"This one in particular," Krem pointed to Trip and continued, "frightens them, since they rarely fall ill and believe his sickness is a portent of bad luck to come."

"This...just figures," Trip growled sarcastically between strained breaths. "We just can't...catch a break...can we?"

"Do not exert yourself, Commander," T'Pol replied. "What are the Renkans planning to do?" she then asked Krem.

"Well that's why you need to get out of the village," Krem explained with exasperation clear in his voice. "I've been arguing with them ever since you've come here, and I've managed to convince them that you, Sub-Commander, being healthy are of no threat to them. However, I haven't been able to sway them from their belief that Commander Tucker is simply a sick man who is perfectly harmless to them. They keep insisting he is a bad omen that needs to be destroyed. So if you want to keep that from happening, you need to leave. Now! They'll be here any moment. Listen to me! I would not have used the stimulant to wake the commander if this were not urgent. It's dangerous to him, and I have so little of it left. But you must leave now!"

"I see the..logic behind..all this now," Trip said while looking intently at T'Pol.

T'Pol had no doubt the commander was attempting to make a joke, but she chose to ignore it.

"Can you walk at all, Commander?" she asked calmly.

"Prob'ly not, but...let's give it..aaahh...the old..college try."

oOo  
The stimulant helped, but not much. Their progress was slow as Trip stumbled along barely conscious, and T'Pol half-dragged, half-carried him through the forest. After a short discussion, the two had decided to head back toward the area where they had left the primitive beacon Trip had rigged. They had both agreed that, with the captain still onboard the alien ship, returning to the beacon made sense and was where the captain would most likely search for them if he somehow managed to return to the surface. Additionally, the beacon was placed in an area relatively far away from the Renkan village, and T'Pol believed the clearing to possess some minimal safety for them.

But first they had to trek through a large expanse of the forest, and T'Pol doubted the commander could go much further in his attempt to avoid the logical end that was his demise. She could not remember ever seeing a living creature look so desperately ill, and she could not understand how he held onto any strands of consciousness. His fever had spiked again, and he lapsed into moments of delirium which would suddenly clear to be replaced by severe pain. Pain that was all too easily seen in his eyes despite the attempts he made to hide the agony behind light-hearted joking. At the beginning of their slow flight through the woods, T'Pol found the commander's jokes tedious and out of place. She could not comprehend why the engineer insisted on making light of their serious situation. But after what felt like an interminable amount of labored stumbling, she had come to understand that the commander was only trying to ease his fears She had decided to let him have his fun even though each joke gave her barely-controlled emotions unwanted strength.  
In fact, after a little more time, she was actually beginning to respect the cleverness of each joke regardless of the illogical reason for their use. Even considering the effects of the stimulant Krem had injected into his system, the commander was holding out better than anyone could have expected. They had actually made progress toward their destination, but she estimated another three miles or so before they would reach the clearing that held the beacon. Her logical mind kept insisting the man would not be able to reach their objective.

She was considering the argument posed to her by several members of Enterprise that logic could lead to a dangerous fatalism, when the commander's breathing became so labored that he stopped abruptly and looked at her with clear panic.

"I can't...my..breath," he tried to choke out over thick wheezing.

T'Pol quickly laid him down off the pathway they were on and studied him carefully.

"Commander, try to calm down. Steady your breathing," she instructed as she checked his pulse. His heart was racing, but it was not arresting as she had feared.

"Can't..breathe," Trip whispered in response, and T'Pol saw that his panic was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Commander Tucker!" she said in a sharp tone that snatched his attention well enough to distract him momentarily from his distress. "Calm yourself," she added as she felt along his ribcage. "The muscles in your upper torso have seized violently, and you are unable to expand your chest cavity sufficiently to take in a reasonable amount of air. I will attempt to relax the muscles by massaging them, but you must also help yourself by remaining calm."

Unable to respond and already seeing black sparks flash across his vision, Trip managed to nod even though he was doubtful that remaining calm would have any significant effect. He had a miserable moment when he suddenly realized for the first time that he actually could die on this horrible planet, and he would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but he didn't have the breath. Then T'Pol started massaging the overstrained and taut muscles that lay over his ribcage, and all he was conscious of was the pain in his chest that he could not even express by screaming.


	15. Chapter 15

T'Pol did not experience fear the same way humans did, but she was gravely concerned when the commander passed out. The massage she was performing seemed to help a little, but Tucker still did not appear to be taking in enough air to sufficiently oxygenate his blood.

Closing her eyes, T'Pol changed tactics and focused her attention on the commander's left hand. Human physiology was different from Vulcan, but there were enough similarities for her to hypothesize that a specific form of neuropressure would aid Trip's breathing. She found the correct spot between the metacarpals on the palm near the base of the first and second fingers, and then located the second pressure point on the thick muscle of the thumb. Calculating the correct amount of pressure took only a moment, and then she firmly pressed both areas with her first and second fingers.

Immediately, the alarming staccato rhythm of the commander's breathing slowed and lengthened. T'Pol stopped the pressure on the man's palm and checked the muscles in his chest. They were more relaxed than before but were by far not normal. She knew if she moved the commander, the muscles would seize once more and he would once again be in mortal danger.

She was not happy with the vulnerability of their position. They were directly on the path, it was obviously well-used, and T'Pol had no doubt the Renkans were the users. They would not find it difficult to track down the two Starfleet officers.

But T'Pol had no choice. She could not be sure the neuropressure would work a second time if the muscles seized, which they were like to do if the commander were moved. The only logical thing for her to do was to arm herself as well as she could with whatever rudimentary weapons the wood had to offer.

A quick scour of the area determined that the woods had very little to offer. She found a relatively sturdy branch and a few medium sized rocks that she could easily throw. Other than these items, she had only her own formidable fighting skills and her logic. Both had served her well in the past, but she did not believe they would do so when she was outnumbered as badly as she suspected she was now.

She had no other suitable course of action, and little would come from overthinking the situation. Instead, keeping the branch within easy reach, she settled down beside the commander and proceeded to massage his rib muscles.

It was not long before the muscles on the commander's left side began to tighten again, and nothing T'Pol did would loosen them. Tucker's breathing was quickening, and he was practically groaning with each shallow inhalation and exhalation.

She was redoubling her efforts to no effect when she heard a heavy rustling coming from down the path. She found it peculiar that the noise was coming from the opposite direction of their pursuers' village, but doubling back in order to recapture escapees was not an unheard of tactic.

She grabbed the thick branch in one hand and a rock in the other and then bounded to a protective stance in front of the commander. Trip's breathing was strained and noisy, and she experienced a muted amount of satisfaction knowing he was not experiencing the pain he would be if he were conscious.

The sounds from the path increased, and she knew her attackers were near. She crouched low and prepared to fight.

And then Lieutenant Reed burst into her field of view.

It took her only seconds to formulate that Enterprise had found them, and that it was not the Renkans attacking. The Lieutenant; however, appeared to be in some shock. He abruptly stopped running and stood with his phase pistol levered. No doubt her appearance as well as that of the commander's was alarming, but she had no time to assuage Reed's emotional response.

"Lieutenant, please inform Enterprise that we have a medical emergency and need to be beamed up to the ship immediately. Have Phlox standing by in the transporter room," she said, breathing heavily despite the calmness of her words.

"Trip? What happened to him?" Reed asked, with slow and dangerous anger.

"We have no time for explanations," T'Pol responded. "Now, do as I say."

oOo

Archer paused only a moment to consider his mistake before swiftly seizing on another plan. He quickly picked up the broken vial, then grabbed Gorak by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the transporter room. Once outside, he blasted the lock on the transporter room door, frying the circuits and hopefully locking the other two aliens inside.

Although the ship was modest in size, it was nowhere near the magnitude of Enterprise. It was easy; consequently, for the Starfleet captain to locate the part of the ship that acted as a brig. None too gently, Archer tossed the little alien into one of the cramped rooms, closed the door and sat down on the floor outside.

It was not long before Gorak woke.

The alien did not respond to his new predicament in the way Archer expected him to do. Instead of pleading for release, the creature arrogantly demanded it. The commanding tone incensed Jonathan, and he tore the door open again. Now that they were on even footing, now that the creature didn't have Trip to use for extortion, Archer decided to loosen the reins on the anger he had been holding onto so tightly.

He took two, long strides into the room and towered over the alien. Clutching the broken vial and shaking it vigorously in front of Gorak's grooved nose, Archer grabbed the front of his adversary's shirt and lifted him off the ground.

"You're going to tell me what was in this vial," he said through gritted teeth, "and you're going to tell me in great detail."

oOo

Phlox was waiting in the transporter room when T'Pol and Malcolm beamed in supporting Trip between them. As soon as they were completely rematerialized, T'Pol indicated to Malcolm to lie the engineer down on his back. Carefully, she performed the neuropressure technique again, and when she saw no improvement she started massaging the commander's rib muscles.

All the while, she calmly described Trip's condition to the doctor.

"A poison that results in vomiting and general malaise followed by extreme muscle spasm, convulsions, then death," Phlox said, while scanning Trip for his vitals. "There are many species who use poisons designed to produce similar symptoms. Given enough time to isolate the toxin and compare it to the Vulcan database, I should be able to synthesize an antidote."

"Given his current state of deterioration, I do not believe the commander has much time left," T'Pol said, ignoring Reed's look of shock and worry at Trip's condition.

Phlox finished scanning Trip and frowned.

"Yes, I believe you're right, Sub-Commander. I'll need to quickly finish my scans in sickbay and then immediately put him on life support." The doctor stood and barked orders at the medics assigned to help him. "I need this man transported immediately to sickbay! Hurry, now! Hurry!"

Malcolm was watching people swarm over Trip to take him away to sickbay. Consumed with his concern for his friend, he didn't hear or address T'Pol until she uncharacteristically grabbed his arm.

He startled at the abrupt contact.

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," he said, involuntarily using the outdated terms his father had once taught him.

T'Pol only raised an eyebrow in response.

"Lieutenant, the captain is on a ship orbiting the planet. I will go to the bridge and isolate his bio-sign from the other individuals present. Stay here and transport him back to Enterprise on my signal."

Malcolm straightened his shoulders and squared his jaw.

"Yes, Sub-Commander," he replied.

T'Pol bowed her head, acknowledging his ability to order his thoughts under duress. She was aware of the friendship the Lieutenant shared with Trip and understood the psychic distress humans could experience when a close acquaintance was in harm's way. She could not help but be impressed by the Lieutenant's ability to subjugate his emotions and perform his duties.

None of her thoughts broke through her expression; however, and gracefully she turned and made her way to the bridge.

oOo

It took only seconds for Gorak to realize he was physically outmatched by the Starfleet captain. With very little convincing from Archer, he started babbling and pleading for his life. Startled by the sudden change in character, Jonathan abruptly let go of the whining alien.

Gorak scuttled backwards and cringed in a corner with his hands covering his face. Archer recovered quickly from his initial surprise and stepped forward to press his advantage.

"What are the components of the poison you gave to my crewman?" he asked, purposefully looming over Gorak.

Gorak pressed his body even further into the corner at his back.

"I don't know! I don't! On my honor-"

Archer balled his hands into angry fists.

"You have no honor," he said through a tightly clenched mouth.

"On my fortune, then! On my fortune!" the groveling creature screeched. "On my fortune, I don't know the chemical makeup of the poison. It's a common poison. My people use it all the time, but why would we ask what it's made up of. It's readily available-"

Archer took another aggressive step closer to end Gorak's babbling.

"If my commander dies-" he said just as his body began to shimmer, and Enterprise's transporter took him away.

As soon as he rematerialized on the transporter stage and noticed Malcolm behind the transporter controls, Archer understood what had occurred.

"Trip?" he asked Malcolm as he stepped off the transporter.

"He's in sickbay," Malcolm replied immediately.

Archer nodded and then strode out of the room. He walked quickly to sickbay, barely acknowledging the crewmen around him.

Archer expected sickbay to be overrun by the hurried bustle of the doctor and his staff trying to treat a dangerously sick member of the crew. Instead, when the sickbay doors opened, he was greeted by the gentle murmurs and occasional screeches of the doctor's menagerie, but no other noise or disturbance.

"Doctor?" he called, and then noticed Phlox staring at one of the data outputs in the corner of sickbay.

Phlox pulled his attention away from his work and smiled broadly.

"Ah, Captain. So good to see you safe and sound after your adventure," he said.

"How's Trip, Doctor?" Archer said, not understanding how even the jovial Phlox could be so light-hearted when Trip was so ill.

"Well, he is a very sick man right now, Captain, but I have no doubt he will recover given the correct treatment and a reasonable amount of time," Phlox said.

Vaguely, Jonathan noted the sickbay doors swishing open and T'Pol entering. She took a position at his back and stood there saying nothing.

"I had it. The antidote," Jonathan said, holding out the broken vial which he had never let go. "I had it, and I lost it."

Phlox grinned broadly

"Not to worry, Captain. The poison is similar to one used by the assassin race on Relius Prime. I have experience treating the symptoms and will be able to keep him relatively comfortable until I have manufactured the antidote."

Archer visibly relaxed, but then Phlox's grin faltered a little.

"I do need to warn you, that Commander Tucker is not out of the woods yet. The faster I formulate an antidote, the easier his recovery will be. It has been difficult producing an antidote specific to the poison in Mister Tucker's system, but, " he said, plucking the broken vial from Archer's hand, "since you were so kind as to bring me the residue of the true antidote that is coating the inside of this test tube, I should have no problem quickly synthesizing a suitable treatment."

Jonathan was so startled by the quick shift in Trip's condition from dire to hopeful, that he found himself speechless. He watched as Phlox held the broken vial to the light and squinted at it's contents.

"Ah, that will do very nicely, Captain," he said, his characteristic Denobulan grin returning.

"Captain," T'Pol said quietly, "I suggest we leave this quadrant of space immediately.

Archer experienced sudden and fierce anger at the thought of leaving their captors, the people who had tortured Trip. He clenched his jaw tightly, struggling against rage. T'Pol stepped forward and softly, almost hesitantly clasped his shoulder. He calmed then and realized that revenge, although satisfying, was not the proper course. They were safe. They were back on Enterprise. There was no need for further engagement.

"Yes, tell Travis to take us out of orbit. Full Impulse," Archer said.

He didn't move until he felt the engines beat heavily as Enterprise's impulse power kicked in. Then he patted Phlox on the shoulder and walked to the curtained area where he knew Trip would be.

oOo

Jon was dozing lightly in the chair next to Trip's bed when Phlox came in with a hypospray.

"Is that it?" he asked, his voice a tired croak.

"Yes, Captain. I believe Mister Tucker will be feeling well shortly," Phlox said, pressing the hypospray against his unconscious patient's neck.

Archer slumped with relief as soon as he heard the faint hiss of the antidote being administered.

"How soon before we see some improvement, Doc?"

Phlox smiled briefly before answering.

"Oh, I'd say that in a few hours we should see some diminishment in the commander's muscle spasms. He may even regain consciousness before the night is out."

"Okay, thanks, Phlox," Jon said, settling back into the chair.

"And you, Captain. You're exhausted. You need to go back to your quarters to rest. You've had quite the strenuous experience yourself. And as I said, the commander won't regain consciousness anytime soon."

"I'm fine right here, Doc. I've already made arrangements with T'Pol to keep me apprised of what's happening on the bridge, and she knows to contact me here in sickbay if there's any trouble."

"Captain-"

"I'm staying, Phlox. I want to be here when he wakes up. You didn't see him down there on the planet. You didn't see how scared he was as things got worse for him. He tried so hard to hide his fear, but I could see how frightened he was. I want to be here when he wakes up."

Phlox understood humans enough to know he would be unable to convince the captain to leave his friend. So instead of arguing any further, he just nodded.

"If you get tired, please at least consider resting on one of the biobeds, Captain," he said quietly.

Archer nodded and turned back to his friend.

And he stayed.

He stayed when Trip's muscles continued to cramp so strongly that Archer worried he would snap in two. He stayed as Phlox monitored Trip's heart rate when it suddenly stuttered, and he stayed and listened to the quiet whispering of the various life support machines.

And then he stayed as the muscle spasms began to weaken, and when Phlox removed the more invasive tubes and machinations that had been keeping Trip's heart beating and his cells oxygenated. He stayed when Trip groaned even in his unconsciousness.

And he was there when Trip eventually opened his eyes.

Trip blinked heavily, and then Jon saw recognition in his eyes.

"Where?" Trip asked, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You're safe on Enterprise, Trip. You're in sickbay. Phlox found an antidote."

Trip grimaced and pried his eyes open again.

"How long 'til I get outta here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Archer chuckled. Trip smiled briefly and then seemed to drift back off into an easy doze. Archer was going to call Phlox, when Trip's eyes slowly opened again.

"We don't know anything about those aliens, Captain?" Trip asked. "I sorta recall that you and T'Pol had a whole conversation with one of 'em. You didn't get anything? That's not like you."

Trip shuddered slightly as one of the weakening muscle spasms took over his frame. Archer reached out and grasped his friend's shoulder.

"Trip?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm okay," Trip muttered, closing his eyes completely.

"Take it easy, Trip. You need to rest. I'll go get Phlox."

Jonathan stood and reached out to push the curtain aside. He stopped when Trip began talking again.

"Cap'n?"

Jon heard the whispered question and turned away from the curtain to see Trip struggling against sleep.

"Yeah, Trip?" Jon asked, concerned.

"Why didn't you at least get their species' name?" Trip breathed and then fell into an exhausted sleep.

Archer squeezed Trip's shoulder and sat back in his chair. He wiped his face with shaking hands.

"I guess I just didn't want to know," he whispered.


End file.
